


Epiphany

by Redcrow



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Major Character Injury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 11:40:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/710396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redcrow/pseuds/Redcrow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An injured Sherlock rethinks his priorities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Epiphany

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Español available: [Epifanía](https://archiveofourown.org/works/806897) by [randomsociopath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/randomsociopath/pseuds/randomsociopath)



Pain, deep, sharp, all pervading pain, wrenched him up out of the darkness. He struggled, fought to reach consciousness, his mind pushing up through the thick, black, cloying peace of oblivion. As awareness returned, he wondered briefly where he was, he wondered if he'd be missed. He struggled to remember and a face, a voice, a feeling came back to him, home.

He tried to move, and cried out wordlessly, as the pain bloomed in hard splinters, sharp and bright as shattered glass, spreading over his chest and left arm. Suddenly there was noise, voices and other sounds he couldn't place, a bright light moved quickly over his still closed eyes. He turned his head away from the light, it was too bright, too harsh, even through his eyelids. Cool, careful hands moved over his skin, touching lightly. A voice, female, told him not to worry, that he was going to be ok. "You're in the hospital, we're looking after you."

"W..what..." He coughed and pain intensified again, making him gasp and choke.

"Don't try to talk, take it slowly." The soft female voice spoke to him again.

So he was in a hospital, as the woman had said but which hospital, where and how did he get here, why was he here, what happened? His memory was hazy and full of holes, he could remember a case, a case he was getting close to solving. He remembered talking to Lestrade, he even remembered chasing someone but there his memory turned black and empty.  
He cracked his eyes open, wincing at the blindingly bright light as it hit his retinas. His instinct was to raise a hand and shield his eyes but the thought of moving again stopped him. Very slowly, millimeter by millimeter, he opened his eyes.

"Sherlock." The voice was familiar but not home.

He turned his head fractionally. "My..."

"Shhhh. You heard the nurse, don't try to speak yet."

"What..."

"Do as your told Sherlock." Mycroft's voice was soft with relief. "Apparently you gave chase a little too enthusiastically and the perpetrator was armed. You've been shot, ironically in the left shoulder. It seems your lover and yourself will have matching scars." Mycroft's mouth twitched in a barely repressed grin. "Lestrade was beside himself, he really does hold you in high regard."

"John..."

"Do be quiet little brother. John is perfectly fine, though not best pleased with you. You had better be more careful in future, it wouldn't surprise me if he murdered you himself."

"YOU IDIOT!" Sherlock eyes swiveled to the source of the shout and all his pain was momentarily forgotten. He smiled and lifted his hand as the wondrous sight of his good doctor came into view. "For fuck's sake Sherlock, do you actually have a death wish, are you so very tired of me that you have to seek out mortal danger?"

Sherlock gave a slight shake of his head and squeezed John's hand as the doctor slipped his into Sherlock's. "Mortal danger is ...what we do." He whispered.

"I'll leave you to it." Mycroft said, standing.

"Thank you Mycroft." John nodded "I'll see he does what he's told."

"Good luck with that." Mycroft chuckled and left the hospital room.

"You and I are going to have a very serious talk when you're better." John told him sternly. "And don't you dare try arguing with me."

"I don't...remember it." Sherlock's voice was rough, hoarse, barely above a whisper. 

"You will eventually." John looked down at him still clasping his hand.

"I'm sorry." Said Sherlock sincerely.

"Oh you will be." John's tone was hard but his eyes were soft, full of concern.

"Don't...worry John, they said I...was going to be ...fine." 

"I'm supposed to be telling you that you idiot." John grinned. Relief had washed over him like a warm sea when Mycroft had phoned and told him Sherlock was injured but safe. The one time he hadn't been with him, the one time Sherlock had no back up, no weapon and this happens.  
"You are never doing this again on your own, do you understand me?"

Sherlock nodded and grimaced as a fresh bloom of sickening pain burst within him. He clutched at John's hand and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Fucking hell Sherlock...I can't lose you." John's voice was cracked, his eyes brimming with suppressed tears.

Sherlock looked up at him but could find no words. At that moment Sherlock had an epiphany. It was no longer the work that mattered most, no longer the cases and the puzzles. He knew in that moment that nothing ever again could be as important to him as John. John and his relationship with John was paramount. He squeezed John's hand again, grounding himself to that matter, that flesh and bone.

"You bloody idiot." John whispered as he leaned down to gently kiss Sherlock's lips.

"I love you too." Sherlock said simply.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, I just borrow them from time to time.


End file.
